She's mine
After supper, they asked to talk to Valerius in private, and he brought them to the abbot's parlour, where they sat across from each other by the fireplace.
"Your new robes, they suit you," Aramis remarked, glancing down at Valerius' white robes.
"Thank you, brother. It's taken a while to get used to, I admit; sticking out among all the blues and browns, all eyes on you in the chapter house."
"I can understand the feeling-of being in a new leadership position that is," Aramis clarified. "But I've never been one to blend into a crowd."
"Vanity, brother," Valerius chided.
Aramis put a hand over his heart. "Forgive me, Abbot. I'll say ten Hail Marys after this."
"Aramis is doing very well in his new role though," Anne declared, making his heart swell.
"Yes, you looked very stately when you first arrived. And you were always very diplomatic when dealing with the children if I recall. I imagine there's little difference between settling the squabbles of children and politicians."
Aramis smiled at Valerius' joke, and then glanced over at Anne, who gave him a minute nod.
"Speaking of children, I'm glad you got to meet my son," he said, and then watched for his friend's reaction.
Valerius blinked and then leaned back in his chair. His eyes flickered over to Anne before lowering to the floor. He smiled to himself. "Yes, he is a fine boy." He looked up at Anne. "He has Your Majesty's colouring, of course, but his eyes..." He slid his eyes over to Aramis.
"And he has his father's smile," Anne happily added.
Aramis' gaze settled on Anne's stomach. "I pray that his sibling follows suit," he said with deep sincerity, and lifted his eyes to see Anne's sad smile.
He looked over to Valerius, who said nothing. "How many Our Fathers should I add to my penance?" he asked.
Valerius shook his head. "Why would I condemn a gift God has seen to bestow upon you?" he answered. "I know it caused you pain to be parted from your loved ones the four years you were here, Aramis. I think your self-imposed exile from them was penance enough."
"I'm grateful to have been given the chance to finally be with them, but Her Majesty and I would like to be more than just reunited," Aramis told him, and reached out to take Anne's hand. "We would like for you to marry us. Tonight."
"Tonight?"
"Once all the children and the brothers have gone to bed," Aramis explained. "You understand this must be kept secret, that there be no record of this marriage taking place, for the protection of my family."
"Then why take the risk?" Valerius asked bluntly. "Please forgive my frankness, but why do you need to be married when you are clearly devoted to each other and have already had marital relations?"
Aramis was taken aback by Valerius' line of questions, not expecting this kind of resistance. Hesitation? Yes. But not to be told it was pointless.
Anne though, wasted no time in pushing back. "Why did you have to take holy orders if you already loved God and had decided to devote your life to His will?" she coolly challenged.
Feeling his lips curve into a half-smile, he met Valerius' eyes and raised his eyebrows, silently asking, "See why I love her?"
Returning his attention to Anne, Valerius broke into a smile and chuckled. "Because without them, I would not be able to perform the sacrament and fulfill your wishes, Your Majesty."
"So you'll do it?" Aramis asked, wanting to be sure.
"I would be honoured."
MMMMMMMMMM
When it was time, d'Artagnan came to fetch her and Constance from her room.
Reaching the chapel, she let Constance and d'Artagnan go ahead while she collected herself. Constance had asked earlier if she wanted her or one of the men to walk her down the aisle, and Aramis had also told her of Athos, Porthos, and d'Artagnan's offers, the latter even suggesting the three of them walk with her together, but Anne insisted it wasn't necessary. She was touched by their offers, but she had made the choice to marry Aramis on her own, and not for money or land or part of a political game, but for love. And she would make her way to him of her own volition.
Due to the late hour and limited time for preparations, the chapel was dimly lit, with candles lighting the way and then gathering before the altar. She could make out Athos and Sylvie sitting together in the first pew on the right, while Aramis and Porthos stood talking to Valerius. As Constance and d'Artagnan approached the first pew on the left, she watched as Porthos turned his head towards them and then looked over his shoulder, catching sight of her as she approached the center aisle. She heard him say Aramis' name, and then the room fell quiet once everyone turned to look at her.
Athos and Sylvie stood, and Aramis shifted on his feet while she began to make her way down the aisle. It wasn't a long distance, but apparently Aramis decided he did not want her to walk it alone, for he took several large strides forward and stopped her about halfway.
Reaching out, he took one of her hands in his, and raised it to his lips to kiss her knuckles. "You look beautiful," he told her, looking deep into her eyes. She was wearing the same simple dress she had changed into once they had arrived at the monastery, he had asked her to wear it after she told him to wear his leathers, but he said it with such sincerity, such reverence, she had to look down and make sure she was wearing the same dress.
"Shall we?" he asked.
Nodding, they walked down the rest of the aisle together, her cheeks already starting to hurt from smiling so much.
Once they stood before Valerius, she handed Constance her small bouquet of pansies, and took a deep breath. Valerius asked in a low voice if they were ready, and she and Aramis met each other's gazes and answered yes before turning back to him.
Aramis had to let go of her hand so she could make the sign of the cross, but they immediately rejoined hands after, and while Valerius went on with the ceremony, she found herself angling more and more towards him. While Aramis listened intently to Valerius, she took in his appearance, the soft yellow glow of the candles reminding her of that night at the convent, and she thought about how much they'd been through, how much they'd changed in the years since. There was more grey in his beard now, more wrinkles at the corners of his eyes when he smiled, and most noticeably the prominent scar on his left cheek, but whenever his eyes flickered over to her, she could still feel flutters in her stomach that she knew were not the baby's doing.
Valerius had reached their vows, but she was only half-listening. He had been right about one thing; she didn't need to hear all that Aramis would promise to do for her, and she for him. It wasn't only because they had already made their promises to each other, but because they were already fulfilling them. They'd seen each other through injuries and hard times, they'd seen the darker, imperfect sides of each other, and they'd honoured and cherished each other ever since he saved her at the Châtelet.
Aramis was fully facing her by now, and reached out to take her other hand in his before saying "I will" as he stared intensely into her eyes.
"I will, always," she answered emphatically when it was finally her turn.
Tearing her gaze away from Aramis' smiling face, she turned her head and gave Valerius her full attention as he pronounced them man and wife, wanting to both hear and see him say those binding words, to make sure this was all real.
She felt Aramis squeeze her hands, and when she returned her gaze to him, she saw that his eyes were wet with tears. Blinking, she realized she was crying too as tears of joy, of happiness, of relief began to slide down her cheeks.
Once Valerius said "Amen" she eagerly rose onto her toes and leaned in to meet Aramis for their first kiss as husband and wife. It was a sweet, but somewhat chaste kiss, with their hands still joined, and their bodies only lightly touching. They had never kissed in front of an audience before, she realized, or at least not knowingly, as was the case when Constance had discovered them in Emilie's tent, and they were both holding back, so used to having to hide their love for each other. But Anne didn't want to hide it, not here, not now, and so she let go of his hands and threaded her fingers into his hair while she stepped further into him, her other hand coming up to lay on the cross on his chest as she intensified the kiss. He smiled against her lips, and then she felt his arms wrapping around her as he pressed even closer and returned her passion in kind.
She heard someone laugh, a low, rumbling, warm laugh that had to belong to Porthos, and when she and Aramis broke apart, they laughed as well.
MMMMMMMMMM
She felt as if she were in a dream as she hung onto Constance's arm and made her way back to her room, with d'Artagnan following close behind. As a precaution, Aramis would be coming up a few minutes later, to avoid them being seen going into her room together by an errant child or monk.
"Do you want me to help you change?" Constance asked once they had stepped through the doorway.
Anne shook her head, a smile tugging at her lips. "I think I'll ask my husband to help me," she answered, savoring the way she could truly refer to Aramis as such. She was always already in her nightclothes when she'd come to his rooms back at the palace, and even at the convent she had been only wearing a bathing gown. Naturally, it left them with fewer layers between them and meant that they could go to bed sooner, but she had somewhat enjoyed the times when she got to help Aramis dress and undress in the first few weeks after the attack when he couldn't really use his left hand. With her ladies it was a routine process, but with Aramis, it could be intimate and simply...ordinary; something husbands and wives without servants must do.
Constance smiled warmly. "Of course." She gently grasped Anne's elbow. "I'm so happy for you, Majesty. For the both of you."
After pulling Constance into a hug, she bid her and d'Artagnan a good night, and once the door had closed behind them, went and sat down on the bed after turning down the sheets. Leaning back against the headboard, she put her feet up, and closed her eyes so she could focus on committing to memory the way Aramis had looked at her at the ceremony, how he had held her hand the whole way through, and how they had finally been able to proclaim and express their love for each other before God and their dear friends.
How different it all was to her first marriage. For that ceremony, she had merely been a spectacle, shining to the delight-and perhaps disdain-of strangers. Inside she had been a bundle of nerves, first worrying about not performing well during the mass, and then later in the bedchamber. Louis had been kind to her throughout, she could tell he was nervous too, but it was still incredibly awkward and the both of them had wanted it to be over as soon as possible.
Tonight though, everything had felt right. And when she heard the door to the room open she filled up not with nervousness but excitement.
"Tired of me already?" Aramis asked cheekily.
Smiling, she opened her eyes and watched him lock the door before he came over and sat down on the edge of the bed next to her. "I was just dreaming of you," she answered while he gently stroked her leg with his hand.
The corner of his lips curved up into a half-smile. "If you are tired I can help you out of those clothes and you can go to sleep," he said sincerely, and went ahead in taking off her shoes.
Sitting up, she shook her head and placed a hand on his cheek. "You will be helping me out of these clothes," she began, "because I plan on consummating this marriage tonight."
Aramis chuckled, and leaning in, started pressing kisses to her neck. "If my Queen, my wife, wishes," he murmured into her skin.
"Your wife wishes it with all her heart," Anne replied, and while his hand traveled up her skirt to undo the tie at the top of one of her stockings, she wrapped her arm around the back of his head to join her other hand in undoing the buckle at his shoulder.
He pulled away as he slipped the first stocking off, and then his chest piece was taken off and deposited on the floor. His lips met hers briefly, giving her just a taste, and she gathered up her skirts so he could make quick work of removing her other stocking. After taking off his boots, he stood up and undid his sword belt, and while he went and leaned the weapon against the wall, she got to her feet as well, inhaling sharply when her bare feet touched the cold stone floor.
He next went to undo his sash, but she slid her arms around his waist, stopping him. "Let me," she lightly insisted.
Turning in her arms to face her, he raised his hands in compliance, his fingers quickly finding something else to do as they delved into her hair in search of the pins holding it up. Once the sash was on the floor, she raised a hand and glided it over the row of buckles down the front of his doublet. "So many," she softly stated.
"My love, you were the one who wanted me to wear this," he replied with a grin as he pulled another pin and released the last lock of her hair.
After pocketing the pins, he combed his fingers through her hair while she got started on the first buckle. "And I shall endeavour to free you of it," she vowed, and rising up on her toes, captured his lips in an increasingly heated kiss.
Once fully divested of their clothes, Aramis swept her off her feet and laid her onto the bed. As he settled over her, he pulled the sheets up to his shoulders, blocking out the chill of the room.
Leaving a trail of wet kisses in their wake, his lips traveled across her jaw and then down her neck to suck on her collarbone. She gasped at the sensation, hands gripping his hair, and opened her eyes to stare up at the ceiling. In this small, barely furnished room, her thoughts once more flashed back to the convent, and she laughed softly at how similar but different this was from that night.
"What's so amusing?" Aramis asked, pressing a kiss to the underside of her jaw.
"This is not quite how I imagined our wedding night would be; in a monastery and with this belly," she explained, her hand sliding down to cup his cheek as he pulled away and they both glanced down at her stomach.
He hummed in agreement, and turned his head to kiss her palm. "This is much better than anything I could have imagined."
"Really?"
"Ana, you are carrying our second child. Second." His gaze slowly traveled down her body before coming back up to meet her eyes. "And you look absolutely divine doing it."
MMMMMMMMMM
Waking up, he looked over to see Anne lying on her back next to him, the bedsheet at their waists. Her head was turned towards him and her right hand rested on her stomach. She was wearing his shirt and he hazily remembered her putting it on after she got up a couple hours ago to crack open the window. He turned onto his side to face her and then watched as her eyes fluttered open.
"Is it morning already?" Anne asked sleepily.
"No," he answered. Moving closer, he slid his hand over her stomach next to hers and placed a kiss on her shoulder. "Not yet. Go back to sleep."
Rays of sunlight had reached the window behind her but they didn't have to worry about maids and servants walking in on them here, and he felt no desire to wake her; he was content to simply lie there with his wife in his arms, knowing that this is how it should be.
MMMMMMMMMM
A few hours later Anne took Aramis' hand off her stomach and brought it to her lips to lay a kiss on his knuckles. Sitting up, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and reached over to the chair next to the bed for her chemise. While she pulled Aramis' shirt off, she heard the rustle of sheets and felt the bed dip behind her.
Fingers lightly touched her arm, ghosting over the rough skin of her healing cut, and Aramis let out a low growl. "If Porthos doesn't kill Longueville, I certainly will."
"Neither of you will," she stressed, and pulled her chemise over her head before turning to face him. "Not unless absolutely necessary."
"He is a traitor who put you in danger."
"He is a peer of France with powerful friends, Aramis, including his brother-in-law the Prince of Condé. We have to be careful."
With a frustrated sigh, Aramis fell back onto his forearms. "I'm getting tired of this possible threat of Condé."
Shifting, Anne reached a hand across his body so that she could lean over him and look into his eyes. "He'll be at the palace for the announcement, and you can watch his face when he learns he's going to be knocked down a peg in the line of succession."
"Oh I will definitely be watching his every move," Aramis replied, and then lifted his chin to meet her lips in a warm, languid kiss.
She easily could have fallen back into bed with him, but they had responsibilities to tend to, and so she reluctantly pulled away, though she remained close enough to brush her nose against his. "Now, dear husband," she began, "will you help me dress?"
MMMMMMMMMM
"I didn't think you'd be up until at least midday, especially not after that kiss," Porthos said in a low voice upon meeting Aramis in the dining hall for breakfast. "That wife of yours is full of surprises."
Aramis smiled at hearing Porthos refer to Anne as such. "She didn't want to miss waking Louis up. And I'm sure you're anxious to get back to your men and see Longueville taken care of."
"Mhm, let's go over the plan then," said Porthos, and after waving Brujon over, the three of them sat down and went over their course of action while they ate.
Once everyone was ready, they set off, with Constance riding in the carriage with Anne and Louis, and Aramis riding horseback with the others. Athos and Sylvie had not gone with them, but had chosen to stay at the monastery for one more day, wanting to give Sylvie more time to recuperate before beginning the journey back to their home, especially as she would be traveling by horseback this time, riding Athos' horse while Athos rode one of the horses belonging to the Spanish scouts that they had taken with them.
Before they reached the outskirts of the army encampment, d'Artagnan once again went ahead to announce their arrival, and Porthos veered off to go in a different way and hopefully avoid Longueville being notified of his presence until the right time.
D'Artagnan soon returned to escort them the rest of the way, and brought them before a group of assembled soldiers, at the head of which Aramis assumed was Longueville, standing there tall and proud in gleaming armor.
Dismounting, Aramis stood silent while he waited for Anne to come over with Louis. Like many of the nobles he'd met over the course of the tour, Longueville only gave him a cursory glance before focusing his attention on Anne, which was fine with Aramis, as it allowed him to study the man without having to mask his emotions more than he already was.
Longueville looked to be around his age, perhaps a few years younger, with dark eyes, shoulder-length dark-brown hair, and a finely trimmed mustache and goatee. He quite reminded Aramis of the late king, and from what Porthos had said of him, Aramis suspected he was of a similar temperament.
Coming to stand next to him, Anne was stoic when she acknowledged Longueville. "Lieutenant."
Longueville bowed and then stepped forward, smiling widely, seemingly enjoying his leadership position. "Your Majesty, thank you for the supplies you sent, we received them a few days ago."
"I come bearing grave news, Lieutenant," said Anne curtly. "There was an incident along the road, involving General du Vallon."
"The General?" said Longueville, craning his neck to look behind Anne. "Is he all right?"
Aramis very much wanted to wipe the wide-eyed, open-mouth look of surprise on Longueville's face, but they had to get Longueville into the trap before he could do so.
Anne gave a light shake of her head. "Not here. The command tent?"
"Of course. This way."
Anne turned to Louis, telling him she needed to talk to the man and to stay with Constance and d'Artagnan before going to follow Longueville, Aramis and Brujon just a step behind her.
Just before they entered the command tent, Anne let him and Brujon step in front of her. Longueville walked into the tent, but stopped short at the sight of Porthos, sitting back in a chair next to a table on the left.
"General…" said Longueville, his face falling. He quickly turned his head and went cross-eyed at the sight of Aramis' pistol pointing at his face.
"His weapons, Brujon," Aramis instructed while he glared at Longueville.
"Wha-what is the meaning of this?" Longueville stuttered, still staring at the barrel of Aramis' gun while Brujon took his pistol, sword, and main gauche and tossed them over to Porthos, who laid them on the table. "Your Majesty, I don't understand."
Anne walked further into the tent and took a seat in Porthos' chair once he centered it in front of the table for her. "There was an incident involving General du Vallon, Lieutenant. What don't you understand?"
Longueville angled his body towards Anne but kept his eyes on Aramis' pistol. "You-I thought the General had been-"
"Killed?" offered Aramis, putting his pistol back on his belt now that Longueville had been disarmed and a glowering Porthos was standing on the other side of the lieutenant while Brujon watched his back. "No, thankfully your esteemed general is still with us, as you can see, though he was injured while escaping the Spanish scouts who captured him."
"As was Her Majesty," added Porthos, his voice low and with a hint of the anger bubbling below the surface.
"Your Majesty has been hurt?" Longueville asked with exaggerated alarm, his attention fully on Anne now. "I will fetch the medic immediately." He turned but Aramis blocked his path, and Porthos grabbed his shoulder, roughly pulling him back into place.
"You're not going anywhere," Porthos told him. "In fact, you should be on your knees."
When Longueville continued to ignore Porthos, Aramis put a hand on his shoulder. "Do you need help?" he asked, but didn't wait for a reply, and kicked the back of Longueville's calf, buckling his leg out from under him to force him to the ground.
"Now stop lying to Her Majesty, and that's a command," said Porthos.
Aramis watched Longueville's jaw clench along with his hands. "The Duc de Longueville taking orders from a street rat from the Court of Miracles," he finally spat out. "I thank God that my father didn't live to see this."
"Your father would be ashamed to see his son betray his country out of greed," Anne strongly countered.
"My father fought with King Henry!"
"You put King Henry's grandchild in danger!" Aramis shouted back.
"I told them under no circumstance were they to harm the King!" Longueville protested, and with a sigh, let his head fall back and closed his eyes upon realizing what he had just confessed.
Standing up, Anne turned her back on them and removed her billowing cloak before revealing her profile. "He speaks of the heir."
Longueville's head snapped forward. "You are with child..." His shoulders sagged as he sighed once more. "I did not want either of Your Majesties to be harmed, I only wanted to be able to lead France to victory."
"You could have done that by serving and supporting General du Vallon," said Anne in an even voice, stepping closer to them. "Instead you let your pride cloud your judgement, and now all you will be serving is a prison sentence." She looked to Porthos. "General, see to it that the Duke is escorted back to Paris."
"It will be my pleasure," answered Porthos. "Brujon, the shackles." Once Brujon had retrieved the shackles from the table and handed them over, Porthos went about clasping them around Longueville's wrists. "The Spaniards had these," Porthos said to Longueville. "I wonder where they got them from."
MMMMMMMMMM
Once Longueville had been brought to a more secure location and put under guard, they reunited with Constance, d'Artagnan, and Louis, and did a quick review of the regiment, giving the soldiers a chance to see them all.
"I don't suppose you'll be among Longueville's escort to Paris?" Aramis asked Porthos as they approached the carriage.
Porthos came to a stop and sighed. "It's tempting, but I think I ought to stay with my men, build up their trust, earn more of their respect. I can't have something like this happen again." He looked over to Anne, who was standing by the carriage with the others. "And there was something the Queen said to me...I've got to defend the ground we've gained, and all those who stand behind me."
He nodded in understanding, and patted Porthos' arm. "I'll see to it that Elodie gets your letters," he promised. "I'm sure the Queen will want to invite her and Marie-Cessette over to the palace as soon as we get back to catch up. She is quite fond of them."
Porthos smiled softly. "Dining at the palace with the Queen," he mused. "I suppose the food is a big improvement from what we're used to."
Aramis shrugged. "Eh, it's not that spectacular."
Porthos raised a skeptical eyebrow.
"No, it's delicious," he confessed, and the two of them broke into laughter.
"Thank you, for taking care of them," said Porthos, turning serious. "You and the Queen, and for the supplies," he added.
"They're family," he simply answered. "As for the supplies, I'm glad we could get them to you, just be thankful Her Majesty didn't decide to sell all her jewelry, otherwise she wouldn't have been able to leave any clues."
"What do you mean?"
"How do you think she paid for it all?" he replied with a lift of his eyebrows.
Exhaling, Porthos gave a light shake of his head. "You keep her safe, you hear me?" he said, looking Aramis in the eye. "And happy."
He smiled. "I intend to." He and Anne hadn't been able to bask much in their newly wedded bliss, and he looked forward to getting back into their nightly routine after having to spend so much time apart during the tour. "I've never actually slept in her bed, you know," he stated. "People always assume..."
"You what?"
"Back at the palace. She always comes to my rooms."
Porthos leaned closer. "You make the Queen leave her big fancy bed and come to you?"
"My bed's fairly big and fancy too," said Aramis, crossing his arms. "And I was laid up for a bit on account of being shot and stabbed."
"Yeah, and what's your excuse now?"
"Well I told you we're leading people to believe Milady and I are seeing each other; if someone should hear us, they'll think I'm with her," he explained, to which Porthos gave another shake of his head. "Though obviously I won't have my wife getting out of bed to come to my rooms as she gets further along in her condition," he was sure to add.
"Yeah, yeah," Porthos conceded, his lips curving into a half-smile. "Just be careful, all right?"
With a nod of his head, Aramis clasped Porthos' hand and embraced him in a one-armed hug. Pulling away, he clapped him on the shoulder. "You too."
MMMMMMMMMM
"Ready?" Anne asked Aramis once they had said their goodbyes. She had been glad to see all their friends, to have met the orphans, and she was overjoyed to have had her and Aramis' union blessed, but after all they'd been through the past few weeks, she was eager to be on their way back to Paris.
"Ready," Aramis answered with a smile, and offered her a hand to get into the carriage. "Let's go home."
Historical background/inspiration
-Valerius' name is, of course, a derivative of Valentine
-There was speculation at court by Anne and Mazarin's contemporaries that they were married, with even her son Philippe's second wife professing that they had, but there is no proof, and was likely just gossip. Nineteenth century historians had been a bit scandalized by how Anne and Mazarin spoke to each other in their letters and reasoned they had to have married, but modern historians have since presented more credible arguments against them having married or even being intimate. Anne and Mazarin were likely just very close.
-However, it is widely accepted that after the death of his first wife, Queen Marie-Thérèse, Louis XIV did marry Françoise d'Aubigné, Marquise de Maintenon in a private ceremony. The marriage was morganatic, which meant Maintenon wasn't recognized as queen or even openly as the king's wife, and no documentation exists, but she was treated accordingly to her higher status (moved into new rooms across from Louis' at Versailles, rode in his carriage, etc.)
-During Anne and Louis' two-hour nuptial mass, "the king often looked at the new queen, smiling. And she, 'weighed down with robes and diamonds and pouring sweat,' could not keep herself from smiling back at him" -Elizabeth Wirth Marvick, Louis XIII: The Making of a King
-Henri II d'Orléans, duc de Longueville, was a French royal and peer of France. His second wife was the sister of the Prince of Condé. According to Wikipedia, he was involved in one of Marie de Medici's revolts, for which he was suspended from his duties for a few months, and later Mazarin would have him arrested for his involvement in the Fronde
-"Anne received compensation for the crown jewels that had been in her possession, which at the death of Louis XIII went to the new king...All the jewelry that she had brought from Spain...remained her exclusive property, like the jewelry she had bought herself or received from her husband during their marriage"- Ruth Kleinman, Anne of Austria
A/N
I was pushing it with these last two chapters, but now I've really caught up with what I have ready to post and unfortunately won't be regularly updating for a while. As I've said before, I have an ending, and a rough outline between here and there along with many written scenes, I just have to flesh it out and figure out logistics to connect it all. Ideally, I would like to finish it all before posting again, but I think once I have the next few ready (I estimate about 5-6 chapters left) I'll post in batches. Feel free to message me here or on my tumblr: anamariamauricia for updates.
Do let me know what you think of the story so far, especially since I've never taken on such a big project before and I'm curious as to your thoughts. Has it been easy to follow? Does it make sense? Is it in character? Do you like the chapter length and pacing? And most of all are you enjoying it?!
Be well, and thanks for reading!